Emivita
by Marka.Carbondale
Summary: [AU][RoyEd] Abused, Roy took Edward in during his High School years, keeping the knowledge of Edward's abuse a secret for three years. One day, Ed's foster dad finds out about his relationship with Roy, and scars him, Edward's life becoming an emivita...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Another AU, another I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist disclaimer. No, I don't.**

**Emivita**

—**xx—**

**Prologue**

**I remember when I first talked to Edward**. He was in three of the same clubs with me, so I saw him at least three times a week. The first time I talked to him, though, was at a Scholar Bowl meeting. We weren't on the same team, but the Varsity and Jr. Varsity teams met at the same time, mostly because the majority of our questions were close enough, and anything they didn't know, we taught them.

Except Edward was a different case. He _always_ knew every answer. He couldn't always make it to the buzzer first, but whenever he hit it he was right. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same thing about myself. One day I was sitting alone after practice trying to figure out an answer that on of my teammates had quizzed me on. I thought I was the only one left, but apparently, I wasn't. I had nearly given up, my head in my arms in near-defeat, when I sensed someone looking over my shoulder. Before I even opened my eyes, he said cockily, "That's easy, you must be a total idiot."

I sat up and gave him 'the look'; the look of 'that-was-not-the-right-thing-to-say'. He grabbed my paper and slapped it down next to me, taking a seat. He scratched something onto the paper and slipped it back to me.

Now I'm not stupid, okay? I'm actually pretty smart. I'm tied at the top of my class. But this kid, this… Edward Elric, was amazing. He was… abnormal. I looked down at the paper and then back him.

"Are you serious?" I gaped, making the words out somehow, "it's so… obvious! God, I'm such an idiot!"

He laughed, "Yeah, you are. Anyone could have gotten that."

I put my heads back down into my arms, "yeah, anyone but me…"

There was a bit of silence before he spoke again. "So, you're on the Varsity team?"

I raised my head, "Yeah. I'm usually on top of my game, but today…"

He finally smiled at me, "Well, I know how that is. Sometimes you're just braindead, huh?"

"Yeah," I replied, "you're really smart, though, and I've never seen you mess up before. I think I'm gonna recommend you for Varsity, unless, you know, you don't want to."

"Really?" He grinned, "aw that'd be awesome! You'd really do that for me? You don't even know me."

"Yeah, the team would be ecstatic to add a member as smart as you, and I'm sure you could use more of a challenge anyhow. You're definitely smart enough to get off the JV team."

"Hell yes I am!" He grinned excitedly. "Thanks…uh…" he gave me an embarrassed look, "…what's your name? Sorry, I don't know."

"I'm Roy Mustang," I said, smiling at him, "you?"

"Edward," he smiled, but then quickly added, "Elric."

"How old are you, Edward?" His name felt weird coming from my mouth for some reason. "You a sophomore?"

"Freshman," he said, smiling real big for some reason.

"You look kinda small, though," I teased, a smile playing on my lips. I took my fingers and made a real small distance between them, holding them up in comparison to him.

"Who are _you_ calling small, you stupid bastard?" He growled, "I'm gonna—"he was interrupted by a melodic song from his pocket. "Agh… my phone."

He dug his hand in to said pocket and retrieved a cell phone, flipping it open and putting it to his ear as he turned from Roy. Roy smiled contently, feeling as if the insult he had given had been forgotten, and therefore, he had won.

"Yes dad, I know that it's late… I told you I had practice." He took the phone from his ear and winced. After a few seconds he put it back, "Look, we went overtime and I was helping someone with a problem, and then I had to talk to a senior about being put on the Varsity team." He paused for a minute, "Yes, I _do_ have time for Scholar Bowl. The only other things I'm in are Mathletes and Photography! …I'll be home at the same time, this was just one instance. Aren't you even proud that I'm smart enough to be on the Varsity team as a Freshman? …I know it's not a sport, but I don't want to be in a sport!" There was a bit of silence from him and then he sighed, "Look, I'll be home in twenty minutes, okay? Bye." He groaned once more, turned around, and gave me a look. "I really hate my foster dad… a lot."

"That's unfortunate." I smiled at him.

"Well, I'm gonna go, I better start walking now or I'll never get home in twenty minutes." He grabbed his backpack off the ground and turned around, "See you later, Roy."

"Yeah." I smiled after him until he left the room, and only then did I realize that I could have offered him a ride. I shrugged and grabbed my stuff leaving the room. Adding Edward to the team would _definitely_ be interesting.

—**xx—**

**The team was definitely happy to add Edward to the team, **because they had actually been discussing him for the past week anyway. The last step had been to ask me, the team captain, and since I had come up with it myself, the deal was basically done.

After he was added to the team, we were now talking all the time, because he realized I was in clubs with him other than Scholar Bowl. I don't think I really realized I was falling for him until the day I learned about his foster dad. On that day, I had gotten to school extra early to start filling in my college applications. I wandered out of the guidance office, early by what must have been one and a half hours, hoping to find one familiar face. There were, at most, about twenty people wandering through the school, teachers included. I decided to get some breakfast and so I headed for the cafeteria. That's when I saw Edward.

He was sort of hunched over and limping, but I simply thought he was doing this because he was tired and dragging his feet. I picked up my speed and caught up to him. When I reached him, I tapped him on the shoulder and at the touch he flinched and smacked my finger away. He turned around and then I noticed there was something wrong. He had a bruise right under his right eye and his cheeks were tear-stained. I was speechless, all I could get out was, "…Edward?"

He stopped walking and slowly turned to me, looking like he was ready to cry, or yell at me, I couldn't decide which. "What… what happened?"

He looked at me and then turned away from me and started walking away. "I… I tripped, I'm fine."

Raising an eyebrow, I could tell he was lying, "Really, you tripped? It sure doesn't look like it."

"Why don't you screw off, Roy?" His voice cracked as he tried to shout. "I don't need you hounding me about whether or not I tripped, I'm _fine_. Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because I know you're lying. What really happened? Did you get in a fight with someone; did someone hit you or something?"

"I'm not lying about anything!" He whipped around, "Why do you even think that?"

"Because, Edward," I said calmly, trying to keep him quiet, "I can tell you've been crying. Your eyes are bloodshot, there are dried tears on your face, and you look like you're about to cry." I took a daring step towards him. "You _aren't_ fine. What happened to you?"

He looked at me for a moment and the bit his bottom lip and looked away. "What do you care? No one's ever cared before."

Putting my hands on his shoulders, I gave him my warmest smile, "Tell me, I want to help you. Look, I can make sure you are fine and then your teacher won't send you to the nurse. All you have to do is tell me what's wrong. Now _tell_ me."

He hung his head and murmured, "Er… alright… But not here." I released him and smiled, a signal for him to lead the way. He turned around and led me into an empty classroom. He shut the door and locked it. "Look, you have to promise me that before I tell you any of this that you won't tell anyone. You can't tell a teacher, a friend, or your parents or anything. It's a _secret_."

"Okay, okay," I assured him, "Lips definitely sealed."

"This bruise is from… from my foster dad."

"What?" I stood up from the table I was sitting on. "That's ridiculous, I'm gonna—"

"NO!" He snapped, "Lips sealed, remember? You can't tell anyone."

"But… why?" I asked, "I can't understand why you would wanna stay. Why don't you get out of there?"

"It's because I like it here," he said, voice barely audible. "It started about a month after I moved here, when school started. I joined some clubs and he got mad because he said I needed to get home earlier to do my homework and be with him. Then he started accusing me of smoking pot and having sex, which I'm obviously not doing. He eventually got so dependent on all these things he was making up that he started letting out all his anger from me and from work all out of me. Sometimes I won't even do anything and he'll do something."

"But that still doesn't explain why you're still here…"

"I had considered leaving," He continued, hardly noticing my comment, "I had planned to tell child services, but then… then we became friends." He flushed, "You see, before I knew you, I didn't really have any good friends. You're the best I've got. I don't want to leave again," he said, his voice cracking, his eyes welling up with tears, "I've been in so many homes since I was ten. I miss my brother. The stupid foster agency took me away from him and I only get to call him every so often because my father doesn't like him so much. I don't want to have to move away and try to make new friends again because honestly, I don't think I'm going to find someone like you."

"Edward…" I murmured sympathetically.

"Please don't tell anyone," He said, a tear rolling down his cheek, "I don't want to leave again, please." He grabbed my shirtfront and cried into my chest. I eventually put my arms around him and let him cry.

I realized right then how cute he really was, how _great_ he really was. "I don't want you to leave either, Edward." Reluctantly, I added, "your secret is safe with me."

—**xx—**

**After that day I don't think there was a time—other than during class time—when **he wasn't by my side. Constantly he found me in the hallway and grabbed my arm, not letting go until I (forcibly) walked him to class. He ate lunch with me every day, so eventually it was just he and I. He even started coming to my house. At first it was rare. He would come maybe once a month. Then it started to be once a week. Soon he'd be at my house at least twice a week, enjoying dinner with my family, who surprisingly loved him. As promised, I told no one about his bruises. I convinced my mother that Edward was involved in soccer so he had bruises from getting hit all the time.

I'm not quite sure when we actually became a couple. He had been clinging to me so much that a few of my friends had even assumed that we were dating. He even grabbed my arm when we walked so one day I just leaned down and kissed him. When he didn't push away I figured he didn't care. That might have been it. One day I heard him talking to someone about it and he talked about us dating so I assumed we were. Now, three years later, the promise still stands. Edward still lives in town, going to the same high school that we went to together. Of course, now I'm in college, living on my own. The moment I moved in he was there. He had helped me move in and then he was over there every night for the next week. Now he comes over at least three times a week, usually including every weekend. I don't mind at all. I'll do anything to get him out of that house.

Over the years, I've really developed some strong feelings for him, otherwise why would I still be going out with him? I mean, I'm a college student; I should be with older women…

…but I'm not. I think I might even love Edward. He's amazing. At first I might have fallen for him simply because I felt pity for him, but as much as I've been around him, I've discovered how beautiful, interesting, and simply fantastic he is. There isn't a moment where I don't want to be around him. Edward comes over and cooks for me and complains about how school is boring, how he wishes I were there. He talks about how lucky I am to be in college.

Oh yeah, we've never had sex. Edward is still a virgin. The first time when we had come close to, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me off of him. He told me, "No. I'm not going to, not until I get out of High School and out of my foster dad's custody." That was all. He never told me why, but I assumed it was because of his father, because he didn't want him to hit him anymore. I don't know, but like I respect his wish for me not to tell about his dad, I keep my hands to myself when it comes to sex.

I'm really very happy with Edward, and that's why when he came home that night, I had to do something. I had to get him from that home. Too bad it was too late.

—**xx—**

**A/N:** Okay, so I know that I started _another_ new story… I'msorrykay? I really wanted to write a new one, because I got a good idea. I promise I'll finish Away and Waiting Game… I just have to get to it.

Please don't get on my case about Waiting Game, too… I really honestly can't figure out how to connect what I have now to the ending. _Believe me_, I have the ending all sorted out… it's just this one chapter that's bothering me. Also, Away is being worked on. I am nearly done with the next chapter, but it's gonna be rather lengthy, so please wait a bit.

But this isn't Waiting Game or Away… this is Emivita, my new story. I hope you like it, and I hope I can finish it faster than other stories. I was also really worried about offending anyone with this story. Please, if you are offended, no that I mean no harm, and I'm sorry.

Thank you for reading and I look forward to pleasing you with my writing in the future. Now comment, please?

Love ya,

Maria


	2. Danneggiare

**Disclaimer: **Although it's been a while since I posted, I still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

**Chapter One – Danneggiare**

**—xx—**

**"You know what?" **Edward's eyes lingered on his fingers, which were clasped in his lap, before drifting up to my own. He didn't even give me time to guess, "I like it here."

A lazy smile spread across my face, my eyes locked into his while I stroked his hair. "Well, that's good," I admitted to the boy in my lap, "it would have been odd if you had been coming here so much if you didn't like it… in fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you have a crush on me." I paused, dramatically, "But that, of course, is impossible."

"Of course," Edward responded, without being taken aback a bit. Not that he'd have a reason to—this is how most of our conversations went, really.

We were both complete jackasses.

He rolled over and, disappointingly, retreated from my lap. "What do you want for dinner," he inquired, "I'm starting to get hungry."

"What do you care?" I teased, "You never seem to care what I want. In fact, most of the time you seem to make the exact opposite of what I want."

"What are you talking about?" Edward's face was screwed up in a combination of confusion and insult.

"Take last Wednesday for example," I offered, "You asked me the same question. You said, 'What do you want for dinner? I'm starting to get hungry' and I said I wanted something—anything—Mexican." I could feel my face growing red, and I took a deep breath. As I remember, it _did_ make me pretty angry. Calm again, I continued. "So what do you go and make? _Lasagna!_" I growled, "Now, does that sound like anything remotely_ close_ to Mexican food?"

"Well," Edward stated, once again, not phased, "I didn't want anything Mexican, and lasagna is both easy and delicious."

"Exactly! You made what _you_ want. So why bother asking?"

"As I recall, you happened to enjoy every minute of my lasagna. I certainly didn't hear any complaints from you." Now he was getting himself worked up. He was sitting on the couch in such a way that if I pissed him off any further—which was entirely possible—he would pounce on me.

So, I snorted. Not the best course of action, I suppose.

"_What?_" he snapped.

"You look ridiculous," I said, trying my best to stifle a giggle, "I honestly can't take anything you're saying seriously."

"Why, you—" and suddenly he was on top of me beating the hell out of me. I have to admit, too, the little runt is damn strong. Eventually, I pushed him off of me, practically tossing him onto the area rug on my wooden floor. At that point, though, I could care less about him—I was too busy rubbing the large bruise I knew was forming on my right cheek.

"_Fine_," I shot, "make whatever the fuck you want!" And with that, I retreated to my bedroom on the other side of my apartment.

Probably about five minutes later, as I lay on my side in my, behaving childishly, I know, I felt two arms—one real, another prosthetic—wrap around my body, and Edward's warm cheek against my neck. Reluctantly, I rolled over to meet his face. His eyes immediately shot for the bruise, which I'm sure was looking lovely, and then they returned back to mine. He was biting his lip.

"Er…" Ed stuttered, "Uh, sorry, I guess… but you were being a jackass…"

"Well, so were you," I smirked, before kissing his forehead, "but I guess that's why I like you."

"Yeah…" He smiled softly.

I then tried to retreat from the bed, but he did not allow me to do such a thing. Instead, he grabbed my hand, pulling me back towards him. My eyes widened in surprise. How very… _un-Edward_

"What was that for?" I questioned, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

"I'm not… _that_ hungry…" he flushed, eyes averting mine, "I would rather… y'know… lay here with you…"

This was much more than I could stand. Very rarely was Edward stumbling over his words, flushing, or so very affectionate—except for when something bad had happened at home.

So, obviously, I jump to worst-case scenario.

"Is everything okay? He didn't hurt you again, did he?" I reached forward for his shirt, yanking it up. There were no new bruises on his chest or stomach, nor his back. "What did he do to you this time? I really wish you'd just let me tell child services, or get emancipated or something—"

"Roy! Chill out!" He gave me a very stern look, "everything is _fine_. You know I tell you when that happens."

"I know, I know," I breathed, "I just worry, you know?" I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, moving my lips to his ear to whisper, "I care about you, I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't… don't worry," he was still stuttering, and it was adorable, "I c-c-care about you too, I guess."

"You _guess_?" I laughed, "How ridiculous."

"Shut up! I'm trying to be sentimental or whatever."

"I like you better tough," I pointed out, "but if you want to be more feminine, I have a proposition for you…" I pulled away from him for a moment to roll over and reach into my bedside table's drawer—from which I retriever a ring of black, flowing fabric. "…wear this for me."

"You're fucking _kidding_, right?" He looked seriously offended, "I am _not_ wearing a skirt. Forget it!"

"Come on, Ed," I pleaded, "just do this one thing for me! Isn't there something you want from me? Anything at all?"

"Nothing I want _that _bad…" He stopped himself short, perhaps pondering something in his mind, "…except…"

"Except, what?" This was exciting! I never thought he'd actually cave.

Snatching the skirt from my fingertips, he left the bed and stood at the foot of it. "Except… well, my spring break is this upcoming week and I was thinking that maybe perhaps I could stay here all week. My father is going away on business that day, and I need a place to stay anyway. One full week, this Saturday until next Saturday." He smiled, "If you let me live here that long, I will wear this… thing…. for you." He was eyeballing it as if it were an insect.

_That_ was it? He wanted to live here? He didn't need to do anything for me to allow him to stay with me that long—he would be away from me and from that bastard he claimed was his father. That was enough for me. It was a win-win situation for me.

So, I agreed. "That seems… fair, I suppose."

"Alright…" he responded, reluctantly, "you promise?"

"On my very own grave."

"Okay, then, expect me here with all my stuff Saturday afternoon." He eyed the skirt, "I guess I better keep up my end of the deal, then." And with that, he departed, making his way down the hall for the bathroom.

The waiting was difficult for me. When I had first purchased the skirt with the intention of trying to coax Edward into it, I never _imagined_ that he would agree—and for such a small price! Now I was sitting my room, awaiting his return. It was so bad I was fidgeting.

The door squealed open a couple of minutes later, a sure sign that Edward was going to come through it—and he did, in all his glory. The sight I saw was one of immeasurable wonder. I motioned for him to come back to bed, worried that words might wreck the moment because of the lack of composure I even possessed at that moment.

Crawling into the bed, I wasted no time in pressing my lips against his, feeling that tiny piece of fabric drape gracefully in between my legs as he lay on top of me. Our lips pressed together, feeling, corny as it was, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. I ran my hand across the nape of his neck, slowly down his back, up his shirt, feeling his soft, warm skin against my fingertips once again. I unglued my lips from his for one moment, just enough time to slide the shirt he was wearing over his head while he did the same for my own shirt. Then, our bare skin touched, hot against each other's bodies.

Suddenly, as if a switched were turned on, we were all over each other. I rolled him over and straddled him, lying on top of him and hungrily attacking his lips, our tongues occasionally meeting for a quick touch before retreating back into our own mouths. My hands moved up his chest, feeling the ever-surprising amount of muscles the small boy had. His hands were busy being tangled in my hair, running through it a hundred times. Then he flipped me over so he could be back on top.

In that instant, the tiny skirt flipped up slightly, and I made sure to try and make no reaction so that he would not notice. Never before had I seen Edward pants-less, and needless to say I was eager. It floated down softly, giving me only a glance of what lay underneath. I was no longer holding back, and I ran my right hand down his back, over his ass, my fingers feeling the hemmed edge of the skirt, I quickly pulled the bottom part up while pushing him back down to the bed.

He simply had no time to react—and I got what I wanted. A neat pair of grey underwear hugged his hips tightly, not leaving much to the imagination. I ran my hand over his erection, feeling it in my fingertips—and that's as far as I got.

Edward, in a huff, pulled the skirt back down, and gave me a death stare.

"Whaaat?" I whined, and then leaned into the crook of his neck, "I just wanna please you…"

"Then you should respect boundaries!" His argument was far from convincing, his breathing heavy and his speaking slurred, "you know the rules!"

"This isn't _sex_! I just wanna… touch you," I admitted, my own breaths short, "I wanna feel you, hear you moan and your heavy breathing. I want all of you, Edward."

Edward contemplated this, "I don't know, Roy, I—"

Angry knocking from the front door startled both of us and left our conversation cut short. We both took looks at each other, and I silently agreed to answer the door so Edward could get dressed, just in case. I retrieved my shirt and pulled it over my head as he scampered off, back to the bathroom. I watched him and cursed silently, "Someone must really fucking hate me up there…"

I finally reached the obnoxious banging at my door, wondering if the person on the opposite side was attempting to leave a fist mark on it. "I'm coming, I'm coming… Jesus!" I threw the door open, and I was face to face with a complete stranger—a black-haired, tall, middle-age man, who looked might angry with me for reasons I could not possible understand at that given moment. After all, he was one that interrupted what could have possibly been a great moment for Edward and me.

But that was gone, and I had a new problem on my hands, apparently.

"Is there a problem, sir?" I was trying to mask my utter dislike for the man, but I wasn't actually doing a very good job.

"Is Edward Elric here? Someone told me he was coming here." He took it upon himself to stick his head inside my home to see if I was hiding him or something behind my fern or my couch.

"And you are…?" I had to be careful, I suppose.

"I'm his _father_."

At that moment, I wanted to punch him in the face, kick him in the shins, and then set him on fire. Fortunately, I possessed the ability to hold myself and _not_ do these things. I honestly hated this man, and now that I was meeting him, I think I had significantly justified my hate.

Because this person, this _evil_ person, hurt _my_ Edward on a regular basis—and that was simply not okay.

I remained composed, albeit the above. "Yes, he is. Let me retrieve him."

I shut the door most of the way, and said nothing about entering my apartment so that he would remain outside it. Edward was sitting on my bed in my room tying his shoes when I entered.

"It's your father. I have no idea what he wants, but he does want you. I told him you're here."

"What!" He looked up from his knot, "Why would you do that?"

"What's the use of not doing that? And now, I can protect you from that bastard!"

"No," he mumbled, "no, no, no. This is _not_ okay… what do I do?"

"Tell him I'm your tutor, Ed," I ran my hand over his bangs, tucking them lovingly behind his ear.

"Okay, okay," He breathed, "but please—_please—_stay in here. No!" he stopped the protests I was about to shoot at him, "just do it! _Trust me!"_

I had no choice. I sat on the bed, fidgeting again. Only this time, I wasn't anxious for something great, like before—I was flat out worried. I was _scared_ for Edward. I tapped my foot against the carpet, not even able to make out the conversation down the hall.

And then I heard it—a sickening crack accompanied by a just as awful thud. I jumped up and ran down the hall, seeing Edward pressed against the wall, holding his head. His father was long gone, thought that was the least of my worries. I attempted to wrap my arms around Edward, but he flinched and wouldn't allow it.

"Edward…" I said, placing a hand on his shoulder to try to spin him around, "Edward! Edward, are you okay?"

The hand holding his head had two lines of red blood trickling down from it, staining every piece of beautiful, golden-blonde hair that it touched. I grabbed the hand and forced it away, seeing the awful cut on his left temple. It was two inches long and it was dripping blood. "Jesus! Edward, I need to lay you down!"

He did not protest, he simply let me pick him up and carry him into the bedroom, laying him down on the sheets. I was afraid to leave him for even a moment, but I knew I needed to treat the atrocity on his head. I rushed to get what I needed, and quickly returned to his side. Soon enough, it was covered by a thick bandage and the hair sticky with blood was clean. I pulled him into my arms, this time unmoved by the affection he was showing for me. I was used to this—the neediness he portrayed when his father did something like to this to him. He hooked his arms around my neck and closed his eyes. Laying down on the bed, I let our legs intertwine and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him as close as I could.

Letting him go had been my mistake, and now he was damaged, hurt, and I could help but feel like it was my fault. I shouldn't have left him alone with that man that hurt him so often. I felt his breathing slow and then steady—he had fallen asleep. I sat there, wide awake. I vowed to never let him go again, never leave him alone with the man that claimed to be his father if I had it in my power to. I had witnessed it, and now it was all I could do to save him.

Little did I know the wheels were already in motion, and the time to save him had already passed.

**—xx—**

**A/N:** Hahaha. It's been so long… over a year, actually. I really have no idea where this came from. I just sat down and typed it up. I'm kinda proud, really. However, I am _still_ putting off my English homework, which I really need to get on…

Oh well.

I really hope you enjoy it. I hope it's not too depressing.

Yes, I'm back,

Maria.


End file.
